Money on the Curb

In the New York Times they recently ran an article about people stealing recycling off the street. Now you might think that the city wouldn't care if there was less recycling to deal with, but it turns out that they make some revenue off the stuff. And if the city can make money so can someone else.

I usually don't put my recycling in the building's bin but bring it to the curb myself. The last couple of times there hasn't been any glass/plastic/metal recycling out, only paper. At first I thought maybe the schedule had changed but the buildings across the street and down the block had it out so I just put mine down and hoped it would be okay. Then last week when I went down the paper was missing too. And there were two guys stuffing bags into the back of an SUV. Not bad work if you can get it. After all, someone else has done all the hard work, they've even left it conveniently located for easy pick up. Isn't capitalism marvelous? No niche goes unfilled.

Survey

Recently, when I was at the wine store perusing the reds, there were two women near me having a friendly dispute. One said to the other, "I'm going to do a survey". Then she turned to me.
Woman: Are you married?
Me: No. Are you taking a poll of married people?
Woman: Okay, say you saw an actor you really loved and you just stepped right up and kissed him. Would your husband be upset?
Not to disappoint her I said, "No husband I would have."
Woman: I rest my case.
Then she laughed and the two of them moved off.
Now, like I say, I didn't want to disappoint her but -and you husbands can correct me if I'm wrong-I do think that any husband would have a right to be annoyed, perhaps even peeved about something like that. What I was really wondering was: was this based on personal experience or was she just planning ahead?

A Ball for Healing

As some of you know, I've been having trouble with my right wrist. Initially I had a weird crawly sensation in the top of my hand whenever I moved my index or middle finger up and down and I would get a feeling of heat if I used the computer for too long. As time has gone on, these symptoms have been replaced by weakness and pain if I try to rest weight on my hand when the wrist is fully flexed. Recently I have begun to suspect that some of the more recent problems stem from the fact that I've been babying my wrist and hand. It's gotten stiff and weak so now it whines and screams if I try to really use it. So I've been trying to gently exercise it and stretch it.

The other day one of our clients who knows of my problem brought something to show me. He'd been having some pains from serious computer use and someone recommended this thing to him. And it was working. After a couple of weeks of using it his discomfort was gone. He left it with me for the day so I could play with it. The upshot is that I bought one for myself.

It's a gyroscope inside a hard plastic ball. You set it spinning and then use the motion of your hand to speed it up and keep it spinning. The spinning causes torque which creates resistance against the muscles in your hand, wrist, and arm. You can feel the muscles working but there is no impact. It's called a PowerBall and is made by Dynaflex. The client bought his directly from the website and he bought the model that lights up. It generates 35 lbs of torque. I decided to try the slightly lighter model that generates 25 lbs. It doesn't light up but I was able to buy it at Paragon so I didn't need to wait. I believe in instant gratification.

I'm going to start slow, using it 10 minutes or so a day and then increasing to 20 minutes. I have hope that it will help my tendons heal and get over their pissy mood. Stay tuned for the exciting results.

Starting Slowly

I know I promised scintillating posts and I haven't delivered. You'll have to forgive me, the last few days have been irritating. And no, you do not want to know why they were irritating, that would send you screaming into the night. Suffice it to say that there are several people on my LIST. You know that list. We all have one. Everyone on the list needs at the very least a serious talking to. Or possibly to be beaten about the head and shoulders with a heavy object for their complete lack of critical thinking skills. There's also one person on the LIST who got there by dashing my hopes of not having to cope with something that has been a pain in the butt since I started this job. She was going to take it over and leave me free, I even did the happy dance when she got hired. Then she got a better offer. But what about me? Did she think of me for even one moment? Did she think of the purgatory she was leaving me in? Not for one single second. Doesn't she know it's all about me? She must not have gotten the memo.

A Good Read

Have you read Survival of the Sickest by Dr. Sharon Moalem? No? Go right now to the bookstore or better yet the library (I love the library, I'd be a lot poorer in both money and space without it.) and pick it up.

The first part is all about how disease can be helpful in certain circumstances. The latter part is about genetics. There was all sorts of stuff I didn't know about genes jumping and getting turned on and off depending on the circumstances. There's also a really interesting theory of why we ended up walking upright and losing all our hair. It will make you question all sorts of things you thought were true.

Dinner

I went on a serious shopping trip to the Fairway today. I loaded up on all sorts of staples. I have hopes of actually cooking dinner and lunch for myself. We'll see how it goes.

I had most of the stuff delivered but I took the perishables home, in this new addition to the household.


Isn't it neat? It's insulated and lined with foil to keep the cold in. I haven't tested it with ice cream yet but it's worked very nicely with milk and butter.


For dinner this evening I got myself some fish. Brook trout. I don't do anything fancy with 'em, they're best when simply grilled and seasoned with salt and pepper. Not having a grill I put them in the broiler.

Here they are, ready to be broiled.

I think he's smiling. He knows how tasty he's going to be.

Here he is after his trip through the broiler.

And here he is at the end of his journey.

I'm saving the second one for tomorrow. I think I'll have it with some lentil salad.

Names Matter

Last night as I was getting on the subway a family was getting off. The two little boys were dressed as pirates, each armed with a plastic cutlass. They were dragging their feet a bit as their mother tried to hurry them along. Then, as they were reaching the door one of the boys thrust his cutlass at the man sitting by there. The mother yelled, "Damien!" and hustled him off the train.

Keep Walking

My cousin Beth and her two daughters are going out this weekend to walk with PanCan, the Pancreatic Action Network, to raise funds for the fight against pancreatic cancer. They are hoping to raise $500 between them. I thought I would help out in their fund raising efforts.
If you would like to donate to their team go here. Their team is the Lovely Lillo Ladies. Thank you.

I am very glad that they are getting out to do this. It must be so frustrating to be helpless, to know that all you can do is hope for one more day. At least this is something to do and it gets them out of the house. My thoughts go with them.

Overheard...

from the apartment below mine. They have some loud fights.
Woman to man:
You couldn't make love your way out of a paper bag.

Weekend Shopping

Fall is really here now. The days are getting crisp and cool and apples have come back to the farmer's market. I love apples. Love love love love love apples. One of my favorite varieties is red delicious though you have to get them at the right time. They have to be just on the edge of ripeness when they're still really crisp. After that they get mealy and no one wants that. This weekend I found one with a nose.






I also really love having fresh flowers around. I don't indulge myself very often but this weekend I felt the need. I bought these irises in a shop near me. I don't know about the rest of you, but I have real trouble getting blues and purples right when I take digital photos. For example, these irises should be much more purple, less blue. The color correct in Photoshop, which sometimes helps, was of no use at all. Still, I think it's a pretty good picture.

Joining Up

Following Lady Epiphany's lead I have joined NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). It will be a challenge to post every day. But I will have incentive: the need to not fall flat in front of the whole wide web. I can be self motivated but it's much more effective to have the expectations of others, to have an audience.

So join up and then repeat after me: I will post every day and every post will be scintillating.

Edible Brooklyn

This past Saturday 4 friends and I went on a little walking tour of Brooklyn, eating as we went. We started in DUMBO (district under Manhattan bridge overpass) at Almondine bakery for croissants, pretzel bread, and baguettes. We then strolled across the street to Jacques Torres' chocolate shop. In spite of the extra warm weather some of us got hot chocolate. The other two got ice cream sandwiches. It was agreed that the banana chocolate ice cream was fabulous.

Years ago, when I moved back to New York DUMBO was kind of a wasteland. Nothing but old warehouses and junk. Now it is completely gentrified. There are restaurants, boutiques, art galleries, and gorgeous apartments. And no wonder. It's an amazing landscape, made of odd angles and textures. One gallery we visited would make a fantastic living space though you would need to fill it with soft, round furniture to offset the concrete and steel. An old garage space is now home to From the Source, a store that sells hand made wooden furniture.
I couldn't walk out with the beautiful high backed chairs that I loved so instead I bought a duck. A wooden duck. Not the kind you usually see, originally meant to be a decoy for hunters. This is a dignified duck, standing tall, made of bamboo and teak.

Our plan was to have lunch at Grimaldi's pizza. However, when we arrived the line was even longer than I had feared. 40 minutes, just for take-out. I have no idea how long the wait for a table for 5 would have been. But in the naked city one must be prepared to improvise so we moved on, down through Brooklyn Heights to Atlantic Avenue. We stopped in Sahadi's for olives and cheese then went on to Brawta, a Caribbean restaurant. It was very tasty. I had pan fried porgy that was crisp and delicious.

From there we went south, through Carroll Gardens, past the Gowanus Canal and into Park Slope. There we ended our day at the Cocoa Bar. They sell chocolates, coffee, and wine. A marvelous combination.

We decided that we should meet every month to go eating. I'll let you know where else we go.

Joining M.A.

I've sat down just about every day this week with the intention of posting to this blog. But all that happens is that I stare for a while at the empty frame and then log out having found nothing to write. I have written in my journal but that's a whole other thing and you certainly shouldn't be subjected to it. This morning, however, I have found something to write about. I was inspired by Karen's post on Worst Mama Ever.

On Saturday I went out shopping. It was a serious trip. I started at Columbus Circle, walked all the way up to Columbia University and then back down to 85th Street. I really enjoy walking around New York though by the end my dogs were barkin'. Concrete is tough on the feets. On my way back down from 116th I passed my old hood, the place I spent the first 7 years of my life. After 30 years a lot has changed. There used to be a handball wall in the playground on Amsterdam between 97th and 98th. It had a fabulous graffiti tiger on it that seemed to leap out of the wall. And there was a pizza parlor that sold Italian ices in those little paper cups. There was also a Woolworth's. Do any of you remember Woolworth's? I loved it when I was a kid. It seemed to have everything including a lunch counter. I never got to eat there since my grandmother would have to have been starving before she ate at a lunch counter but it was great anyway. And I loved the sewing section, filled with ribbons and thread and patterns. I miss Woolworth's. It's kind of been replaced by the Duane Reade which carries everything from cold medicine to nail polish to cookies to light bulbs. But it just isn't the same. And there's no lunch counter.

I realized, as I was wallowing in nostalgia, that I've reached an age where I've started to really notice how things have changed-what's gone and what's new. Progress always brings loss with it as it grinds forward. I love being able to access all sorts of information on the web and I love being able to keep up with friends and family with the ease of email. But I miss real live letters and I hate cell phones. I really do. I think they are vile, nasty things that have attached themselves to our lives like parasites. Work has bled into our private lives and we have become incapable of waiting for anything.

I'm also appalled by the fact that I multi-task all the time. It has become so difficult to do just one thing. If I'm watching tv I do things during the commercials. If I'm surfing on the web I may have the tv on in the background or the radio so I can hear the news. I don't just cook dinner, I do computer work while I wait for water to boil or a pan to get hot. Being completely present for just one task has become very difficult. Silence has become deafening. I might be forced to contemplation and I certainly don't want that. I am also much more impatient than I used to be (not that I was ever the poster child for patience). A line of two people at the coffee bar is too long. Why, I might have to wait a 2 whole minutes. Interminable.

They do say that accepting that you have a problem is half the battle.

My name is Plaid Sheep and I am a multi-tasker.

There's only one thing for it. Cold turkey. At least at home. I don't think I could get away with it at work, there it's actually necessary. But when I 'm at home I will do just one thing at a time. We'll see how it goes. I should probably get a sponsor. Someone to talk me down when I have the urge to watch tv, surf the web, and make dinner while knitting a hat.

More News

First of all, I would like to thank everyone for their kind words and support. As you can imagine, I haven't felt much like blogging.

Ed and Beth have spent some time doing fun things like go-cart racing and skydiving. These are not exactly Beth's cup of tea but I think she'd happily sit and watch paint dry as long as they could do it together. But now the situation has deteriorated. They attempted to put a stent in his liver so the bile trapped there by the tumors could drain and stop causing jaundice. When they got inside they discovered the situation was worse than they thought. Time is now very short and the rest of us are planning to visit next weekend.

I suppose there is something to be said for having the time to put things in order and say goodbye to everyone. We've always had a good time together as a family and I hope that we can lift their spirits, if only just a little. Your last days should be filled with as much joy as possible.

The Best Laid Plans...

I had a post all planned for today. It was all about food. I had pictures lined up of purple beans and pancakes and dumplings. I was going to warn you not to read on an empty stomach.

But things have changed since yesterday. This morning I learned that my cousin's husband, Ed, has pancreatic cancer. And it is in stage four having spread to his liver. A week ago he had a stomach ache and now he's been given 8-12 weeks to live.

I have a hard time wrapping my mind around this. It does not seem real somehow. I cannot imagine what my cousin Beth is feeling. (You may remember, she's the nurse who won the scholarship.) And then there's Ed's mother. She lost her husband some years ago, he was only 53 and we all thought that was way too young. Now her son will not reach his 50th birthday.

I want to provide some comfort but I have no idea what I can do. Also, I dread seeing Beth. She's always been so bright, as if she carried a light around inside her and I know that that light is probably out now.

And how quickly the past tense creeps in. I was thinking that he was one of my favorite in-laws. But that's not right. He is one of my favorite in-laws. We've always gotten along. We both like being right and we usually agree. He likes Mallomars so we always buy him a bunch at Christmas. They've got a serious shelf life so they last him until spring. I was thinking I could send him a box if I can find them. The nurses would probably object but if you can't eat junk food on your death bed...

And what must he be thinking? We've all wondered, haven't we? What we would do if we were given 6 months to live? Do you really go through all those stages of grief before you get to acceptance? Do you let them do what they can to prolong your life or do you reject that in favor of staying at home? I've spent time in a hospital and it no place to have your final moments on this Earth.

We're often advised to live each day as if it were our last. But that's so hard to sustain. So much of living is routine, slipping by as we deal with all the details of our modern lives. Then you get smacked in the face and find yourself thinking about the choices you've made and will make. I know that eventually the mind returns to the routine but I will try to use the questioning while it lasts, perhaps learn something about what it is that I truly need and value. Maybe I will manage to be more grateful each day, even in the midst of daily life. Perhaps that is all we can ask of ourselves, to be aware of life as it happens and to take a few moments every now and then to appreciate it before it's gone.

One More Thing...

A friend of mine works at a gourmet grocery store. Recently they were all given a sample of a new product, Dark Cherries in Merlot. She called me up and told me I had to try them and then I had to figure out a way to duplicate them. Not one to shrink from a culinary challenge I have taken a stab at it. When I tasted them I decided there was vanilla, cinnamon and something else. It gave the syrup an almost medicinal taste, but good. It wasn't quite peppermint but what...
I found the product online and it listed some of the flavors. Cinnamon, vanilla, black pepper, bergamot, bay and... galangal root. That was the taste I couldn't identify. Galangal has an almost camphor-like taste. I did not have any in the cupboard nor did I have any bergamot. So instead I used cinnamon, vanilla, bay, pepper, lavender, and anise. The original cherries are not pitted. They are packed raw into the jar then covered with hot syrup and processed. This cooks them a bit. I did not intend to process them so I pitted them and simmered them in the syrup mixture for a couple of minutes. Then I removed them and reduced the syrup. It's not the original but it's pretty tasty anyway. I'll have to get some vanilla ice cream or some pound cake to have them on. I think they would also be good with game or pork.
For those who want to make some themselves (and I recommend it despite the price of late season cherries) here is my version.

1 1/2 cups pitted dark cherries
1 generous cup merlot (about 10 oz)
3 Tbs corn syrup
1/3-1/2 cup of sugar (I'm not exactly sure how much I added-start with less and add if needed)
1 bay leaf
1 cinnamon stick
2 or 3 pieces of star anise
1 tsp dried lavender
pinch of peppermint
ground black pepper or several whole peppercorns
1 Tbs balsamic vinegar

Pit the cherries with a pitter or a paring knife. Put them in a pot with the wine. Add the syrup, sugar, and vinegar. Put in the bay leaf and cinnamon stick. Put the other spices in a tea ball and suspend in the mixture. Bring to a simmer. Simmer for 1-2 minutes, just to exchange some juices. Take out the cherries with a slotted spoon and put into a jar. Bring the mixture to a boil and reduce by about 1/3 or so, until it's a little syrupy. Remove the tea ball, bay leaf and cinnamon stick. Pour the hot syrup over the cherries and seal the jar. If you intend to keep them for a while they will need to be in a canning jar and they will have to be processed in a hot water bath for at least 15 minutes per pint. But if you're just going to eat them up then any old jar will do. You can store them in the refrigerator if it's going to be a few days. But they may not last that long.

Saving Summer

Remember when I was going on about preserving summer in a jar? Well I've done some work on that. Last week I made some jam. Here it is, bubbling away.

Caramel Peach Jam with Anise and Vanilla

This week I made some tomato sauce. I used two Marcella Hazan recipes. One is just tomatoes simmered with a halved onion and butter. The second has:

Purple carrots! But they're not purple all the way through.

Can you smell it? Breathe deep.

The jar on the left has the simple tomato sauce (good for gnocchi) and the one on the right has the more complicated version. I added some basil too. They are about to go into a hot water bath to seal them up until some really nasty gray day in January when a bit of sun will be very welcome.

Remember, Grasshopper...

If you've been over at Lisa's you know that the tank top is a success. I admit, I had my worries about the size since I couldn't try it on myself. Nick, however, never wavered in his belief. See how serene, almost Buddha-like, he is. No thoughts of sagging or poor fit enter his mind. I can only kneel at the feet of the master and absorb the wisdom.

The Real Bogey Man

When you were a little kid you might have been afraid of the bogey man in the closet or the monster under the bed. Or maybe you were afraid of the dark, or of the thing lying in the deep end of the pool. We think that when we grow up the monsters will go away but they don't, they just change shape and get new names. The monster under the bed becomes bankruptcy, the bogey man becomes cancer. One of the scariest grown up monsters is Alzheimer's. I picture it as a shapeless gray mass that sneaks up on you and wraps your head in a thick fog as it slowly eats up your brain. Never mind the thing under the bed, this is the real stuff of nightmares.

My uncle has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. For the last year or so he has been getting more distracted, more vague. He forgets recent events but is eager to tell stories from his days in the navy during World War II. We thought he was just getting older, after all, he's 82. You should be allowed to forget a few things. But it seems it is more than that. If you know anything about the disease you may know that it can't be diagnosed with complete certainty until an autopsy is performed. The doctors look at symptoms, go with the probability. There is a range of symptoms and different people deteriorate at different rates. There's no medicine that really works and all you can do is go with the flow, do the best you can moment to moment.

So far, my uncle's symptoms are pretty mild. Forgetfulness, distraction, and a reluctance to be left alone for long periods of time. These days he goes with my aunt to her volunteer job at the library. He just sits in the corner and reads until she's ready to go. He's still cheerful and likes to putter about the house, putting things away in odd places. It is my aunt who I really worry about. It must be very lonely to be the only witness to the changes and the oddities. She tried a support group but found it very depressing. She's not one to ask for help, even from her family. I understand this, I am much the same. So I've been thinking about how to help her out. I think I'm going to make some care packages. Boxes filled with fun or odd little things all wrapped in pretty paper and ribbon. I can't take any of her burden but perhaps I can add some light as the days grow darker.

I will also go to visit them in the fall with my sister. I want to see them and yet I also desperately want to remember him as he was, not as he will become. But I will go, and keep going, I will be there for them. This is why we tell children scary stories, so when they grow up they will have the courage and the strength to face the monsters that lurk in the dark.

Taking it Easy

This week has been blessedly uneventful. I'm really looking forward to experiencing some real boredom. Some time to wallow in nothing, maybe watch something truly trashy on television though I will probably draw the line at reality tv. That stuff is just toxic and studies show that if you watch too much of it your brain will begin to deliquesce and leak out of your ears. No one wants that.

But I don't have too much time for wallowing. Summer is slipping away and I have yet to make any jam or preserves. I've been to the farmer's market a lot lately, thank goodness. I think it's against the laws of physics to feel down after visiting the farmer's market. But I've always been on my way to somewhere else and so I couldn't buy a ton of stuff. But this Friday I plan to load up on summer's bounty and preserve it for the winter days to come. When I was a kid I would visit my grandmother in Belgrade. There they have a real market. It's several times the size of of the market in Union Square. Piles of strawberries, mountains of watermelons, heaps of beans-you get the idea. People there still preserved the summer harvest. It's called a "zimnica". It's hard to translate, there's no English equivalent, but essentially it means "for the winter" (zima is winter- not to be confused with the bad but trendy alcoholic beverage). My grandmother's pantry was always lined with jars filled with brightly colored fruits and vegetables. Her apricot jam was pure bliss. I have a lovely vision in my head of having my own zimnica. Because even though one can get apricots from South America in winter they just aren't the same. Preserves are more than just food. They're a moment in time caught in jar, a memory of warm days to savor during the cold winter.

August

"What dreadful hot weather we're having. It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance."

Jane Austen

If You Were Wondering Where I"ve Been...

Dear sweet Christ on a cracker. These past two weeks (and this one is only halfway over) have left me wondering what god we managed to piss off. I'm not going to torture you with tons of details but here is a list of recent happenings.

1.My shower leaks into my neighbors place. The repairs are still not finished due to the rest of this list so I still have the Silkwood shower.
2.Two important people at my job leave prior to a big event we were participating in and which they had been organizing. This leaves me and the other manager in charge though we had stayed as far as possible from said planning. Until now. One of these people was generally useless and left a number of things undone and badly done. We've spent a lot of time trying to find and collect all the dropped balls. At least one rolled under the metaphorical furniture and was a pain in the butt to retrieve.
3.We have a serious lack of people and information about just about everything. I am working 6 days and the other manager 7.
4.Our main phone line decides to crap out and no one can reach us for several days. Much time is spent talking with three different companies and repair people.
5.The plumber still has not come to clean some drains and fix a leak.
6.Yesterday a co-worker had some kind of seizure which resulted in her not knowing who we were and being taken away in an ambulance. (She is feeling better now but it was very scary for her and everyone else here.)
7.And today the skies opened up and stranded various people on their way here or to the aforementioned event.

There is one bright spot in all this. One of the people who left really needed to go. She was both irritating and incompetent. This is a terrible combination. We all agree that despite the shortage we are glad she is gone. And she chose to leave so that is also good and we need not have any latent guilt about wishing her fired.

So there we are. I will be making an offering to whatever gods might be listening and hopefully we will return to some semblance of sanity.

Not Quite the Sistine Chapel

The shower job has turned out to be more complicated than I expected. When I started to take out the old grout the bottom row of tiles came loose as did chunks of backing. Here are the chunks of what is either plaster or some kind of cement that came out from behind the tile. The walls in the apartment are plaster but this was applied on top, presumably to build out the wall. It may also be a thick layer of tile adhesive.

I did not take a picture of the holes at the start but here you can see some of the space left after removal. The extra build out does not extend down the side of the tub. There is just space there. I mixed the plaster extra thick so it would stay in place.

Some of the tile came away without the backing. I think the leak was less at this point so there is not as much water damage.

At this point I will just have to use the tile adhesive.

Here is the first layer of plaster. It is thick enough that it should be applied in two layers.
I tell ya, those cake decorating skills come in handy at a time like this. Not to mention my trusty offset spatula, perfect for small spaces.

After the second layer is in place I will cover it all with a thin layer of adhesive and after that has dried I can stick on the tiles. Then more drying, then grouting then still more drying and curing. So maybe by Friday I can get rid of all the plastic though in this humidity I may play it safe and wait until Sunday to take it down.

It is quite clear that the tiling job was not well done and that at some point in the not too distant future the shower wall will need to be completely re-done. But not just now. My dream would be to re-do the whole bathroom, get rid of the awful pink tile.

Silkwood

This morning I showered in plastic. After yesterday's debacle I went to the Home Depot. In addition to grout, grout seal and some tools I also bought a shower curtain and a plastic drop cloth. Now my shower curtains enclose the whole tub in a U shape from wall to wall and I hung the drop cloth over the tile wall. Not so much as a drop went anywhere but down the drain. But it was little odd showering in a plastic tent. I felt like I was part of some hazmat team showering off noxious chemicals. This weekend I will re-grout. If all goes well I can lose part of my tent on Wednesday.

When it rains...

...it pours. In this case into the apartments of my downstairs neighbors. It seems the grout in my shower needs to be replaced. I had thought on several occasions that it was looking a bit worn but I didn't realize how bad the problem had become. Until this morning when the super rang my bell and told me water was leaking into the two apartments below me. The plumber tested the tub and the shower and the toilet. Nothing. Lastly, he tossed water at the wall. That was it.

I don't know how bad the damage downstairs is. I'm hoping it just needs a little re-plastering. The super says the damage is not too bad, medium, she said. The people directly below me are not home. This will not be a nice thing to come home to. I feel very bad that my procrastination has caused these people a really annoying problem. I'm wondering if I should get them something as an apology. Nice bottle of wine maybe? I also don't know if I will be responsible for paying for the plumber and for any ceiling repair that has to be done. I will hope for the best. My horoscope predicted splendor. I'd like some right about now.

Well Done!

Many people complain about the US Postal Service. I have nothing but praise for them and the British Royal Mail. Amazon UK dispatched my copy of Harry Potter on Friday and it was in my mailbox when I got home yesterday.

The Road Home

Last night a friend and I went to see Harry Potter at the Imax, the midnight showing. It was pretty good. They did a fine job of cutting in order to turn a 750 page book into a two hour and fifteen minute movie. But this is not a post about that but about what happened after.

My friend and I parted ways on the sidewalk, she going to the 1 train on Broadway and I to the A on Central Park West. At 2:30 am the A runs local so rather than go downtown to Columbus Circle I went north to 72nd. No sense backtracking. I entered the station at 70th street. When I tried to go through the turnstile I discovered my Metrocard had expired. No worries, there was a machine right there. I tried to buy a new monthly card. But the machine could not read my debit card, nor my credit card. I could have left the station and walked to the entrance at 72nd but I risked missing a train which at this time of night would be a real pain. So I used two dollars to buy a single ride. There was another woman there. We waited. About 20 minutes into the waiting a D train passed on the express track, as it should. But then 10 minutes after that an A did the same. I ran down the stairs to the downtown track to discover an A local pulling out. I climbed back up the stairs feeling very very heavy. There were some MTA workers in the station collecting the trash. I asked one of them if the A was running express uptown all night. He said he didn't know but pointed to some service posters. Indeed, the A was running express uptown. I had missed the posters because I'd had my back to them while fighting with the Metrocard machine. I did some swearing and left the station. Rather than go all the way down to 59th I went to Broadway and 66th to take the 1.

It was now 3 am. There were three others in the station. A woman with suitcases, a young man, and a young woman with her head on the man's lap. She appeared to be asleep. We waited for about 10 minutes which seemed like 3 hours during which I pleaded with any deity who would listen for a train. I didn't know that I was about to get a lesson about self-pity and about what constitutes a real problem.

When the 1 arrived it became apparent that the girl was asleep because she was really drunk. The young man half carried her into the car and they collapsed into a corner seat. Three men standing near them eyed her warily. The young man assured them that she would just pass out. He was wrong. Moments later she threw up. On the seat, on herself, and on the young man. The three men moved away and at the next station left the train after wishing the young man good luck. The rest of the train made various comments. At 3 am people are louder, more ready to engage with others. There was one group of 4 men who were particularly loud and obnoxious. At this point I began to search through my bag. I thought I had some tissues. When I found them I walked over and gave them to the young man. It was only a few, enough to wipe her face and maybe her hands which is what I told the man across from me who said that wouldn't do any good. But that's not why I gave him the tissues. It was a gesture of sympathy. Here he was, covered in vomit, unable to do anything to help the girl or himself, having to listen to the car laugh about it. I wanted to give him one tiny decent moment in all of that. They got off the train at 116th street. I wondered if they would have to pass a doorman to get home. Not a nice thought. At least the people on the train were strangers. You have to look the doorman in the face every day.

When I got on that train I'd been feeling angry. Mostly at myself for missing the information I needed to keep me from waiting 30 minutes for a train that wasn't going to stop but also at the MTA for putting the posters in the last place anyone would look as they entered the station. Especially late at night when the information is particularly needed. I had spent an extra two dollars and had to walk all over the place to get a train. I wouldn't get home until almost 4 in the morning. But now the anger was gone. All of those things were still true but I had not thrown up all over myself on the train nor had I been thrown up on by someone I was trying to take care of while being laughed at and wondering if I was going to be able to get this person all the way home. Perspective, it makes all the difference.

Night Deposit

This morning I discovered that one of the cats had brought up the biggest hairball I have ever seen. Those of you with cats know that a hairball isn't really a ball. It's a sausage shaped wad of hair and other things its best not to speculate about. This one was fully four inches long and as big around as my thumb. But the most amazing thing about this hairball was not its size but its location. It was in the tub. Now, a cat will usually cross great distances while bringing up a hairball in order to deposit it on the rug, or in the main path of traffic, or in some hidden spot where it won't be discovered until it has formed an almost permanent bond with the floor. Not this one. It was left where it would not be trod on by an unsuspecting bare foot and where it would be easy to clean up. Makes a mother proud.
I first saw the hair ball out of the corner of my eye and through my clear, though definitely not crystal, shower curtain. The first thought that popped into my slightly sleepy brain was that it was a lizard or some kind of bug. This fancy was reinforced by the fact that the mesh drain cover had been popped out as if something had crawled up out of the pipe. They do say there are alligators in the New York sewers. I peered cautiously around the curtain and saw that it was in fact a hairball. I stared at it for some time, marveling at its size and placement. Then I took some toilet paper, scooped the thing up and tossed it in the toilet. I did not take a picture first. Possibly had I scored higher on the blogging addiction quiz I would have done so so you could all enjoy the sight. As it is, you will just have to picture it in your mind's eye.
Biggest. Hairball. Ever.

A Trip to the Farmers' Market

Wild Arugula Salad
It's spicier than the domestic kind.

Basil Pesto (of course)

Apricots! Aren't they pretty?

Sour Cherries
Waiting to become Sour Cherry Brandy.

Minted Cherry Tomatoes
I stole the idea from the Whole Foods salad bar.

She Wins!

Normally I do a Wordless day on Wednesday but today I need words.

Today I am joining Karen in congratulating a nurse. In my case the nurse is my cousin Beth. She's been a nurse for some time and has recently been working toward her Master's Degree. She is planning to teach. Anyway, she applied for a scholarship from the AACN (American Association of Critical Care Nurses) and yesterday she learned that she got it! She is one of only ten people to receive the grant!

And she is doing all of this with 3 children and a husband.

Even after about 10 years of watching her do more in one day than I ever could, I am still amazed at the change in her. When she was in her teens and early twenties she screamed at spiders, didn't care about school, and didn't have much to say. Then, when we weren't looking, she became this fabulous person, interesting and capable and fun. It was there, inside her all the time, it just needed a way out.

I love her dearly and wish her all the very best on her journey.

Hopes

Some time last year the Dunkin' Donuts near me moved down the street and its former home on the corner was left empty. Recently there were signs that something was going on. I wondered what it would be. Another dollar store? Or perhaps another bank kiosk like the one that replaced the Twin Donut shop. This week the boards came down and a sign was revealed.
Cafe Espresso. I am doing my best to be positive, to believe that good coffee is coming. I (and probably many others in the neighborhood) have been longing for a good coffee place. One with comfy chairs and a forgiving attitude toward the lingerers among us. The first glimpse I've had is a little worrisome. It does not look like the sort of place in which one would relax. The location is also not the sort to encourage peaceful contemplation of the foam on a cappuccino. But I'm willing to forgo ambiance if the coffee is good and strong. So I live in hope.

Interpretation

So I have to tell you about the dream I had last night because I think it is directly related to my earlier ramblings about my inability to control my own mind.

The dream begins in a stone room. I am there with one other person and we are on a mission of some kind. As we are starting on the job a bad guy comes in. He's got this electric whip thing that delivers a nasty little shock. He corners us and then a small older woman comes in and takes the whip thing. She then concentrates on me. It turns out that if the whip is held against the body it delivers a sustained shock. This is painful and I start to cry out NO repeatedly while trying to push her away. I push her back long enough to get my hands around her throat and I squeeze. She starts to back away and then to choke. It's at this moment that I wake up.

Normally I am not too quick to interpret my dreams but this was different. I woke with a certainty that I was trying to kill that part of me that is giving me grief by making me relive a bad decision or by causing me to imagine the worst. They say you need to hit bottom before you can really change. Perhaps it is also true that your need must reach it's apex before you can change. And let me tell you, I have never had a greater need than I do now.
Sing it with me... ding dong the bitch is dead...

The Hardest Thing

I did a dumb-ass thing today and it was almost really bad. Not life and death bad but lost data bad. I scared both myself and another person who did not need the aggravation. It all turned out okay in the end, in fact several problems were solved and it may have saved the data in the long run but I am still having a hard time with it. I know there are people out there, you know who you are, who can shrug this kind of thing off. I cannot. I really hate making dumb mistakes, mistakes of any kind really, particularly when the mistake involves someone else. And yet, I always find myself taking on responsibilities that have the potential for mistakes. (It's a good thing I never wanted to be a doctor because heaven only knows how I'd cope with losing a life.) I simply cannot leave a thing alone if the thing doesn't make any sense. I make things my problem when they don't have to be. This is one of the reasons I have trouble working for other people. I hate seeing waste and disorganization. I tell myself "it's not my business" over and over and but I don't seem to be able to help myself. It's not all that altruistic either. I want to solve the problem, to be the one in control, the one who knows the answer. This makes it almost impossible for me to just have a job that doesn't follow me home in some way. If only I could figure out a way to let it go, to let go of the fear and the doubt and the self-recrimination. Nasty things. Of course the only answer to that is to just do it. Stop thinking about it, stop being concerned about what others think, stop seeking perfection. Easier said than done though. If any of you have a method for banishing nasty thoughts please share it. I'll take all the help I can get.

Wordless Wednesday

I can't take credit for this photo but it just seemed the right one to put up today.

I'd Like to Thank...

Lady Epiphany has nominated me as a Rockin' Girl Blogger. Pretty cool. I like to be thought of as Rockin'. Makes me want to go out and buy some new clothes to be Rockin' in.

Anyway, here are my five nominees, passin' it on.

1. The lovely Lisa over at Spawntimes. Lisa moved away from New York some years ago and I miss having her around. But at least I get to read her blog; I can really hear her in every line. Facing the dog puke and screaming with humor she always makes me laugh.

2. The Worsted Witch. Not only a knitter but a tree-hugging pinko liberal like me. She's got all sorts of good information on living well without leaving a big mess on the planet.

3. The Yarn Harlot. 'Nuf said.

4. Cheryl Porro over at the Cupcake Bakeshop. Cupcakes are her thing and she's happy to share all her experiments with us.

5. And last but certainly not least, Amelia Raitte. I always enjoy reading her blog and occasionally I poke my head up to insert a comment. I think I would like to have a cup of coffee with her and a nice long chat. She knits and creates and faces life with grace and humor.

So, there they are. Go visit them if you haven't before and tell them I said "hi".

Back to Work

It's been almost 10 days since I last posted. I didn't mean to leave it for so long but it has been a hard couple of weeks. Going back to work full time after 7 months is tough. The job itself is not really demanding but there has been a lot of information to absorb. I'm also finding that everyone here is too damn sweet. It's a little nauseating actually. I think that for the most part it is sincere but it's a bit much for someone whose age measured in cynicism is about 437. I'm also quite a bit older than the people I work beside at the reception desk. The teachers are my age and older but I don't spend much time with them. This is the first time I have really felt the gap. There's so many things they don't know. I'm also missing conversation with other foodies. There was an article the other day in the Times about Camembert cheese that I would loved to have discussed with someone but they would all have looked at me as if I were a little crazy.

Fortunately I am going to Lady Epiphany's for the 4th of July and I will be able to let the wise-ass remarks out. Not to mention drinking wine and eating lots of yummy meat off the grill.

It Does You Good to Laugh

My sister came for a visit this past weekend. I don't get to see her enough and this time was all too short. She has two kids and the older, J, is very difficult. We suspect he has Aspergers which means that he doesn't do well in social situations, like school, for example. My sister told me that they were considering sending him to boarding school. I don't know how this would go. Perhaps if it was the right place, designed to deal with children that really don't fit in. He is looking more and more like Harry Potter every day. Yesterday we got an email from my sister about her various trials and tribulations including a sick child. As it turns out, this was not the correct diagnosis. This morning we all got the following:

Dear Everyone,

Well, you really have to laugh sometimes:

J was suspended from school today. He got into a fist fight with some kid in the cafeteria. J told the Asst. Principal they were just joking around. The other kid said that J had come up to him and said "I don't want to see your miserable face ever again."

J came home (while I was getting W from school), ransacked the kitchen for junk food and brought it up to his room in case he got grounded. (Yes, we do feed him when he's grounded, just not junk food.) Then he got a bottle of ipecac to take some to make himself sick -- so that he could stay home from school, in case we didn't find out he was grounded. He claims he didn't actually take any, that he just happened to get sick coincidentally. . . .

We did not get the phone call about him being grounded until this morning.

I'm actually a little relieved. It means that instead of running up and down stairs with ibuprofen and throw up buckets, I can just ignore the fellow all day.

Meanwhile this morning, W and I were packing up all these cooking ingredients and tools because today in school his class is doing the "How To Cafe." It sounds like a disaster with twenty ten years olds demonstrating cooking techniques all day. I bet the school janitors are gonna love this one.

I sure am glad I'm on the happy pills now! All this seems kind of funny to me; whereas previously I would have been banging my head against the wall.

Yes, she is on medication. And she's not alone. Two of my cousins are also taking the happy pills. I find it a bit disturbing actually. I wonder how it will all turn out and if they will have to keep taking the pills forever. But as I don't have to deal with out of control children in addition to my own mood swings I cannot judge. When in doubt, have a good laugh.

Wordless Wednesday

Book Club

A few months ago, in an effort to get myself out of my house and speak to actual people I joined a book club through Meetup.com. It's been an interesting experience. Meetup is a good idea but it has some drawbacks. For example, only about half of the people who RSVP in the affirmative actually show up and most of those that do are late. Not really surprising for those of us used to dealing with people but annoying anyway. The host started the club not just to discuss books but to meet new people. In this she's been frustrated by the odd assortment that have been showing up. One woman in particular is very strange and we're not sure why she comes, she doesn't seem to enjoy herself at all. Another person sent the host an email to tell her that he was leaving the club because he was looking for a more intelligent and worldly group. I'm not sure if he is really looking for a literary criticism society or if he was put off by the fact that most of us disagreed with his views. Part of the problem may be the host. She is perfectly nice but getting a word in edgewise is almost impossible. She tends to go on and speaks faster than anybody else I know. You have to really want to state your opinion. This is not a problem for me (I heard that) but others might find it off-putting. Our next book is Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse". I hope it's a bit more uplifting than the last few books. Anyone want to suggest a book for us?

Zoo

Yesterday my friend and I went to the Bronx Zoo. Wednesday is free day though they still make you get a ticket so they can get a count of visitors. I brought my camera with me but there weren't too many photo ops. Most of the animals were sacked out in the heat of the afternoon. Or else a hoard of children was in the way. Late May and June are field trip season here in New York and the zoo is a favorite spot. It made me think wistfully of the child catcher from the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang movie.

We did enjoy watching two male deer try to sling mud onto their backs with their antlers. Occasionally they would have a little sparring match when the older one thought the younger was getting a bit pushy. They also had fun with a large branch that was in the water, lifting it with their antlers and throwing it around. The does and fawns just hung out in the shade nibbling on cool grass. I suspect they were rolling their eyes a bit too.

One of our favorite places in the zoo is the butterfly tent. It's only open in the warm weather. It was surprisingly free of sticky ankle biters so I managed to get a few pictures in spite of the butterflies who were not too cooperative. Either they would not settle down or were shy and tried to hide behind the leaves. I needed a faster camera (Please note this fact for the Xmas season) but here are a few successful moments.

Happiness is rotting fruit.

Some of the butterflies had had a bad time and were a little ragged. But it didn't stop them from sucking up the nectar.

This one is iridescent blue on the top but he refused to leave his wings open for me.

The Monarch.

Wordless Wednesday

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day. Today many people will head out to the beach or the picnic ground. Others will surge into the local Everything-Mart to stock up on things they don't really need. That is the American Way isn't it? If it's a holiday there must be a way to make a buck out of it. But for too many this day is a bitter reminder of their loss. In 1868 General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, instituted Memorial Day. It was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. Since then a great many have fallen in the service of this nation. What makes the recent losses so bitter is that they were completely unnecessary. Those men and women in Iraq are not fighting in the service of the country, they are fighting in the service of greed, ignorance, and stupidity. This administration has betrayed their trust, and ours, and sent them to die needlessly. Rather than solving a problem we have destablized the entire region and now the insurgency is being exported to Iraq's neighbors. To paraphrase Shakespeare: But if the cause be not so good, the President himself has a heavy reckoning to make: when all those legs and arms and heads blown off in battle shall join together in the latter day and cry all-"We died at such a place". I hope they follow him and all his advisors in their dreams.

But none of this can diminish the sacrifice the fallen have made. Let us take some time today to remember them. And not just the 3400 service people but all those who have fallen in war. Iraq has an unprecented number of contractors working in it. They provide all sorts of services often with much less protection than the average military unit. More than 900 have died. And as usual there are the civilians. Ordinary people struggling to survive while living in Hell. An estimated 65,000 have lost the struggle. Let us have a moment of silence for them all and let us send out into the universe a fervent wish for peace.

Wordless Wednesday

Birthday

Yesterday I was at Lady Epiphany's for Lindsay's first birthday party. There was quite a crowd. We ate and drank and Alec grilled an enormous amount of meat. Good times. I brought the dessert. I made a cake and also some cupcakes since they were expecting 30 people. I did not want anyone to go without but in the end not everyone had dessert. (There were some odd people at this party.) Having a reputation to uphold, I did my best to make a good cake and I think it turned out well. It was a sponge cake with banana pudding filling and chocolate frosting. The cupcakes were also filled with pudding. I've never tried this before but I believe they were a success. Lars seemed particularly taken with the pudding. He ate the top off his cupcake and licked out all the pudding leaving a sad empty cupcake behind.

After all the crazy people (read relatives) were gone the rest of us sat around, did a little picking at food, and had a small betting pool on the Preakness. We did not manage to pick the winner. This may have been due to our post-prandial stupor obstructing our mental processes. (The lesson here is always go to the OTB with a clear head and an empty stomach.) We have left our bets in place and will roll them over into the Belmont.

All in all a good day, despite the slight drizzle and the aforementioned relatives. Lindsay crawled away with some nice new clothes and a soft book that has a fluffy chick on the cover. Hamburger buns, banana pudding, fluffy chicks and lots and lots of love. What more could you want for your first birthday?

Wordless Wednesday

Mother's Day

I hope all you moms out there had a very happy mother's day and that the wreckage from breakfast-making was cleared up before you had to see it.

I have many moms in my life these days. My cousins, my sister, my friends - all moms. My own mom died when I was seven years old. I don't remember her very well. Little snippets of time, images and ideas mostly. When you're little your parents aren't people, they're parents, kind of two-dimensional, like characters in a dime store novel. When you get older you get to know them better, see them as real people. I've always been a little sad that I didn't get to know my mom that way and to see some of myself in her. My sister says that our mom valued harmony between people. I got that from her. I think I would have liked her a lot.

After my mom died my sister and I went to live with my father's first cousin and her husband. (I usually call them my aunt and uncle because first cousin once removed is too much of a mouthful and usually requires a chart for people to understand.) We lucked out. They took us in as if that's what they'd been wanting their whole life even though they were about to get all of their own kids out of the house. One minute your youngest is going to college and the next you've got this eight year old leaving her toys around the house. But we never felt less than welcome and sometimes I think they would forget we weren't their own kids.

On mother's day I call my aunt. Though I have never thought of her as my mother she did the job and I will be forever grateful.

Why Commit?

Have you heard about Felxpetz? It's a dog rental company. I kid you not. You can rent a dog by the day. This is how it works, according to their site.

HOW DOES FLEXPETZ WORK?

We aim to keep the FLEXPETZ program simple so that our members and dogs can get as much time in together! Start by enrolling for your FLEXPETZ membership; once activated, your FLEXPETZ membership is ready to go and you can begin using our online reservation system.

Our online reservation system makes it easy to plan your "doggy time". Choose your location to view the dogs available on your chosen date(s). On the day, go and pick up your dog - or choose to use the FLEXPETZ shuttle service to deliver and/or collect you FLEXPETZ dog to/from your home or office.

FLEXPETZ provides our members with local access to a variety of dogs, all of whom are rescues or rehomed, lovable and fully trained. FLEXPETZ members can spend from just a few hours to a number of days with each of our dogs. FLEXPETZ dogs are available in varied breed sizes to ensure compatibility with our member's individual lifestyles and unique circumstances. Local drop-off and collection to your home or office is available in some locations.

And here’s another great FLEXPETZ feature: your FLEXPETZ membership is valid at any FLEXPETZ location. Just imagine visiting New York, Chicago, Paris or London and strolling through the city and parks with a FLEXPETZ dog!

This does not come cheap. You have to pay a registration fee of $150, a yearly fee of $99.95 and then a monthly fee of $39.95. You also pay per day of rental. $19.95 for a weekday and $29.95 on a weekend. If you keep your dog past the end of your reservation you pay a $75 late fee.

Is it just me or is it really odd? Kind of like a doggy escort service? It seems to me that the whole point of having a pet is that he or she becomes part of your life. Someone to welcome you when you come home, to leave hair on your favorite chair, to clean up the food your kids spill on the floor, to wake you with a sloppy kiss, and someone to hug when you've had a really crappy day.

Parents, I know what you're thinking. What about Flexkidz? Instead of committing to a lifelong relationship with some knee biter you could have just rented for the occasional day. But now that you have them you may as well get them to earn their keep. You might not be able to get quite as much for your kid as they do for a dog but every little bit counts.

Wordless Wednesday

Scary Scary World

I stole this from here. I had to. It's terrifying. I must pass it on.

Overheard in Brooklyn

A couple is on the train, filling out some kind of application.

Dude: Okay, what's it say here? Race? Why the fuck I gotta put down that I have a race? I'm not black.

Chick: That's just stupid. Why would they want you to put that?

Dude: Yeah! This is some stupid shit. They want me to put down that I'm black, and I'm not. What the fuck?

Chick: You know what? Leave it blank. And if they ask you, tell them that you don't have any race in you. They can't ask about that kind of shit anyway.

Reduction

Have you heard? Some conservatives are ready to embrace Darwin and his theory of evolution. Apparently natural selection and survival of the fittest provide support for various conservative policies including traditional roles for men and women, the free-market economy, and deregulation. In other words, if you're the strongest (or richest) you get to lead and if you fall behind the herd you are going to get eaten. It's quite possible that one could also use this argument in favor of the younger more fabulous second (or third) wife. Of course you could also use it to excuse scarfing down an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's: the body just naturally wants to add fat, just in case food becomes scarce.

Like many justifications these use only the points that suit them. It's true that in many parts of the animal world the males lead. But not everywhere. Elephants are matriarchal, lionesses do the hunting and we all know what happens to the male black widow spider. As for the traditional family, nature is full of rampant infanticide, polygamous relationships, and absentee fathers.

But this argument fits in perfectly with the recent trend of reductionism. Everything from disease to ethics to faith has been looked at from an evolutionary perspective. Is there a survival advantage to having a belief in deity? Or is it just a by product of some other successful mutation? We've also been reducing our own minds. Tests show that by the time your conscious mind has decided to move your arm your unconscious is already causing the needed brain cells to fire. In other words you are being controlled by your brain. Right. If my brain isn't me, who is it? Does my brain have a mind of its own? Is it in there now, plotting my overthrow?

I understand curiosity but I don't understand this need to reduce ourselves to electro-chemical reactions. Do we believe that it will make it easier to control ourselves? If we know what neurons are firing we can change behavior as well as avert disease? Can we get rid of crime with genetic engineering and some happy pills? I've always been an agnostic but I find myself agreeing with the religious set - some people are just evil and tinkering with the foundations of life is not going to change that. I don't know why one would want to see oneself as no more than a series of electro-chemical reactions but I prefer to believe that there is more to us than that, that we are more than just the sum of our parts.

Wordless Wednesday